Dreams
by flick knife
Summary: They were the same boys, just in a different situation.


**Dreams.**

Matt screamed as the being lumbered towards him. Rotting arms outstretched to grab, low groans emitting from it's throat. Low and pitiful. The young redhead looked around frantically, for some way of escape, but he was cornered. Stuck between a building and a wall as the zombie loomed closer, there were dozens more behind it. Even if he did manage to dodge this one he'd be caught by those behind and ripped to shreds.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder and he whimpered in fear, face to face with the animated corpse as it wailed at him and shook his shoulder, jostling him.

He cried out again as the zombie shook him, closing his eyes tightly and waiting for the imminent chomping of his flesh.

But it never came.

Instead, the zombies groans started to form a word. The anguished wail gaining consonants, the vowel shortening until-

"Matt!" His eyes were still clamped shut.

"Matt, wake up!"

He cracked an eye open and peeked out. The trashed town over run by the living dead had been replaced by a dark room. The dead hand on his shoulder replaced by a small, warm, very much alive one. The groans turned words belonging to a rather indignant young blonde, who was standing beside Matt's bed. The small frown on the nine year olds face illuminated in the moonlight coming through the bare window and making is hair shine like gold.

"What have I told you about playing those stupid video games before-" Mello started, interrupting himself with a sigh as his redheaded friend flung his arms around his waist and buried his tearstained face in Mello's soft pyjama top.

One hand on his hip, the perfect gesture of indignation and annoyance, his other side betrayed him as he curled his fingers in scarlet hair, stroking and soothing.

With a practised ease Mello slid himself into bed with his friend, never once forcing Matt to relinquish his grip and then draped his own arms around the marginally younger boy, holding him close.

"Zombies again?" Mello asked once they were settled.

Matt nodded, refusing to bring his face from Mello's t-shirt, even though he knew Mello wouldn't ridicule him. The fabric was warm, anyway, and held a comforting smell about it, a mixture of chocolate and Mello's shampoo, and then another unidentifiable scent that just reminded him of home. Of Wammy's house.

"They're not gonna get you, Matt," Mello told him. Young voice full of confidence. "I'll protect you."

Matt nodded once again, snug in Mello's arms and ignoring the fuzz in his own that came from Mello's weight on top of it. His mind was already starting to clear, and his eyelids feel heavy again, even though they were already closed. He was vaguely aware of lips in his hair, a chaste kiss on the top of his head, before he once again drifted off into sleep, and blank.

* * *

Heat. It was hot. Mello stumbled to his feet, or at least tried, leg buckling beneath him before he took a full step and dumping him in an undignified heap on the floor. His body felt hot, sweaty, scorched. Like he'd been outside in the sun too long, left to burn. But this was nothing compared to his side, his shoulder, his face. The searing pain that ripped through his skin, white hot. Nerve endings he wasn't sure should even still exist clamouring for his attention, screaming their protest against the heated intrusion that melted his skin.

His clothes were torn too. Tears in his leather trousers revealing bloody gashes in his legs. Vest appearing to melt as it stuck to his skin, the flesh almost bubbling in heat, charred and sticky, blood tacking his clothes to him.

There was another explosion, not far off. Mello flinched. The flames had found gas, maybe, or perhaps an incorrectly wired set of explosives that hadn't gone off in the initial blast.

But it didn't matter, and Mello didn't care. The flames were getting higher, closer, if he didn't get out soon, he wouldn't get out at all. If only he could will his damn legs to move.

Though it turned out they didn't need to. A strong arm fixed itself around his waist, tugging, pulling, leading. Guiding him away from the flames and the heat and into safety. A soft safety. A soft safety where the only warmth was a comfortable one, but the arm was still tightly around his middle.

Mello turned in Matt's embrace, rolling over to meet the red head's eyes directly. Green eyes worriedly searching Mello's fevered blue, one arm releasing him to allow the hand to come up and brush away the sweat damp locks sticking to his forehead.

"It's all right Mello," Matt murmured, still smoothing the trembling blondes hair. "It's all right, promise. You're safe."

The words of comfort spilled from his lips automatically, launching into autopilot as he hurried to comfort his friend and lover, grip tightening reassuringly round his waist as his hand slowed in it's smoothing, turning into casual and languid stroking. Fingers weaving through strands warm with body heat as he brushed it back.

Eventually Mello's expression calmed, eyes half lidded as opposed to widened, and breathing steady again. Tense muscles relaxed as he leaned forward to press a kiss against Matt's lips, one which was eagerly received and responded to, and then his own hands came up to rest on the redhead's warm torso, fingers brushing against bare skin, drawing comfort from the pleasant warmth and solidity of the body before him.

"Okay now?" the warm voice with it's English-American twang to it, unable to keep to one accent and always having a mixture of the places he'd been in.

Mello nodded, moving in closer still to the younger man, to the point of sharing a pillow. He nuzzled in, and breathed in deep, taking in the scent of cigarette smoke, energy drinks, and oh so very faintly, his own chocolate.

Cuddling against Matt, Mello was content. He knew this would never leave their room, he trusted Matt with his weaknesses, and knew Matt would never do anything to harm that trust in the slightest, never mind break it.

The blonde wormed his way in close, and Matt accepted that, grip never letting up as he brushed his lips along the line where scar met skin, listening as the boys breathing evened out and he drifted back to sleep, feeling the warm air hit his face at their close proximity.

They were the same boys, the redhead reasoned once he was sure Mello has found his way safely into a dreamless sleep. Same traits, same looks, same friendship. It was just a different situation.

**Written at 3am, thus the mushy ending and kinda OOCness of the pair. ConCrit would be wonderful, if you cared to review. : )**


End file.
